Feels Like Home
by Littleforest
Summary: AU PoA. "Only a few days after his thirteenth birthday, Harry had finally had enough. His Uncle wouldn't hurt him again, not if he had any say in the matter. He was leaving Privet Drive tonight, and he wasn't coming back." A different take on the classic "Harry runs away before third year" story.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.**

 **A/N -** Hello and welcome to yet another Harry Potter story from yours truly! I know I should be updating my other stories before posting any new ones, but in my defence, I couldn't help it this time! The idea for this one just stuck in my head, and I couldn't let it go until I at least started to write it down. I promise this story will only be short - although I have said that before and disastrously underestimated myself (See: 1st chapter of "Strength in Weakness" for evidence of this haha). Still, I mean it this time. Probably.

Either way, I hope you like my newest addition to the Harry Potter world. I wanted this is to be a different take on the classic "Harry runs away from the Dursleys" fanfiction tale. Hopefully I achieved that much at least! So without further ado...enjoy!

* * *

 **~ Feels Like Home ~**

 **Part One**

* * *

Harry took a deep, steadying breath and raised a shaky hand to wipe away the fresh blood from his lip. It was his own blood of course, the result of a swift backhand from his Uncle for daring to voice an opinion in a house that did not care for it. Harry was thirteen now, but that particular lesson had been taught to him a long time ago.

Harry shook his head and carefully pulled the bottom of his baggy t-shirt up, pressing the rough fabric gingerly against his lip in an attempt to stem the steady flow of blood. He grimaced, wishing he had a tissue or a towel to press against it instead of Dudley's ratty cast-offs. It wasn't worth risking his Uncle's ire again so soon after the last time though, so he would make do, just like he always did.

Harry tried to take another steadying breath, the t-shirt still pressed against his mouth, but latent anger from the argument with his Uncle was still rushing through his system. It certainly wasn't the first time Harry had been struck by his Uncle, but this time it felt different.

 _He_ felt different.

And in that moment, Harry made a decision.

Harry clenched his free hand so tightly that his skin was white, his other hand still holding the fabric of Dudley's cast-off against his busted lip. Too much had happened in the last couple of years for him to stand for this sort of treatment now. Only a few days after his thirteenth birthday, Harry had finally had enough. His Uncle wouldn't hurt him again, not if he had any say in the matter.

He was leaving Privet Drive tonight, and he wasn't coming back.

With a heavy sigh, Harry sat down on the edgy of his lumpy bed, unclenched his fist, pulled in another deep breath, and took a final, long look around Dudley's second bedroom – a room that he would never see as his own, no matter how many times he slept in it.

He shook his head. He wouldn't miss it. He wouldn't miss any part of his life in this house.

Oddly, despite the life-changing decision he had just made, Harry felt a little bit calmer now. Now that the adrenaline from the fight with his Uncle was beginning to seep away, his hands weren't even shaking that badly anymore. He'd always hated feeling powerless, but now that he was actually doing something, now that he was finally _acting_ on a dream he'd had for years, he felt so much better.

He felt ready.

He _was_ ready.

He was leaving Privet Drive tonight, and he wasn't coming back.

Harry nodded to himself, certain he was making the right decision despite how scary it sounded. The truth was, it was something that Harry had been dreaming about since very early childhood – escaping from Privet Drive, getting shot of the Dursleys once and for all - but he'd only truly started to consider following through with the idea after last summer, when he had stayed at the Weasleys and seen with his own eyes how a real family was supposed to act.

Harry ached to have that for himself with a desperation he was a little bit ashamed of, and he knew with sad certainty that he wasn't ever going to find that with the Dursleys, no matter how long he stayed with them. It was a lesson that had been pounded in him numerous times over the years he had spent with them, but finally the lesson had stuck.

He wasn't welcome at Number Four, Privet Drive, and he never would be, so he was leaving tonight and he wasn't coming back.

Harry sighed and checked on his bloodied lip again. Satisfied that it had finally stopped bleeding, Harry turned his attention to the rest of his body. He tentatively rolled his shoulder and grimaced, trying to work some feeling back into it. It was sore, but manageable. Only a couple of minutes ago, his Uncle had grabbed him there with an iron fist before throwing him into his room and slamming the door shut behind him.

What had _really_ hurt, though, were the words thrown at him by his Aunt Marge – who had been visiting for a couple of weeks and who he hated even more than Vernon - just before that.

" _Your parents were a pair of drunk layabouts who deserved what they got. They obviously didn't love you very much or they might've tried harder to stay alive."_

She'd said it gleefully; tears pricked at his eyes at the memory, but Harry blinked them away. He didn't care about physical pain, not really, but the words...

He'd always been able to handle his Uncle when it was just the big man on his own. Vernon Dursley had never liked him, had never wanted him, and honestly, Harry couldn't have cared less. He didn't _want_ Vernon to like him, not if it meant being the type of boy that Vernon liked.

Dudley, for example.

But now that Marge was here too, Harry had quickly reached the point of no return. She seemed to know exactly what to say to push his buttons, picking at the very few things he knew about his parents and twisting them into something horrific. Something…tainted.

Harry hated her. He hated them all with a smouldering fury that sank right down into his stomach, and he knew that if he didn't get out of there soon, he wasn't going to last much longer before he blew up. Or before he blew one of _them_ up. There was only so much he could take, and Harry had reached his limit.

So he was leaving tonight, and he was never coming back.

He stood up on wobbly legs, then immediately got onto his stomach, shifting his aching body over to the loose floorboard under his bed and prising it open with slightly shaky fingers. He wasn't coming back – _Merlin_ , _he really wasn't coming back –_ so he needed to make sure he didn't leave anything important behind.

With his album, wand and invisibility cloak safely in his arms, Harry stood up and made his way over to the rickety old wardrobe in the corner of the room. Kneeling down again, he carefully placed his most prized possessions on the floor beside him and reached into the bottom of the wardrobe, pulling out a tattered old backpack.

It had once belonged to Dudley, and Harry had taken it with him to Hogwarts with the vague idea of using it to carry his school books around. He hadn't in the end, only because he would have been embarrassed to use something that was in such a bad condition. Snape would never had let him hear the end of it.

Still, it had been worth taking it to Hogwarts last year all the same, especially the modifications that Hermione had made to it since then.

Because this wasn't an ordinary backpack anymore.

It had been Ron's idea actually. They all knew that underage witches and wizards weren't allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts – Harry had learnt that first hand during the previous summer thanks to Dobby – but there was nothing that said that using magical _objects_ was banned.

It had sparked something in Ron, who'd been trying to think of ways to help Harry survive the Dursleys – especially after what he's witnessed the year before - and Hermione had run with the idea. They'd wanted to make sure that he had access to enough food and books to survive starvation and boredom if he ever got locked in his room again.

Now, thanks to his friends, Harry had a chance of surviving when he left the Dursleys too.

And he was definitely leaving. Right now. Forever.

Harry shifted the contents of the bag slightly, and placed his invisibility cloak and photo album inside. Normally, it would have been a tight fit, but not with the undetectable extension charm that Hermione had placed on it. It was an advanced charm, and it had taken Hermione weeks of practice before she'd been able to manage it. Still, she had come through for him, not that it had ever been in doubt.

She was the brightest witch of her age, Harry thought with pride. Easily.

It meant that this small, tattered backpack now contained everything of importance that he owned in the world. Before he'd left Hogwarts, instead of filling his trunk, Harry had placed everything of value in the backpack, along with most of his good clothes and a seemingly endless supply of food that would still be relatively fresh come the end summer. Then he'd stuffed the bag inside his school trunk until he got to King's Cross station.

When he'd finally made it back to Privet Drive, and his Uncle had gone to lock the trunk up in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry had managed to sneak the bag up to his room inside a pile of his clothes, stashing it in his wardrobe. He'd been happy just to have a back-up in case something went wrong again – like last year – but now it meant that he wouldn't have to pick the lock on the cupboard under the stairs; he could just leave his trunk behind. He could afford to buy himself a new trunk; what he couldn't afford to do was get caught by the Dursleys before he made his escape.

He definitely didn't want to get caught.

Harry picked up the backpack and pulled it onto his shoulders. It was light – thanks again to Hermione and this time a featherweight charm – and looked ordinary from the outside. It would do.

He pulled his hood over his head and shoved his wand in his back pocket. Then he tried the handle on his door, letting out a sigh of relief when he realised that his Uncle hadn't locked it after throwing him inside. He pushed it open and then crept out onto the landing.

Harry paused, and strained his ears.

The Dursleys were downstairs; he could hear them laughing about something. The T.V. was blaring and for once, Harry was glad; the noise would hopefully mask his escape. Cautiously, he made his way downstairs – avoiding the creaky step – and crept through the hallway towards the front door. The Dursleys laughed again, loudly, and this time, Harry smiled too – although it was in a mixture of bitterness and relief, rather than joy.

Slowly and carefully, Harry opened the front door and stepped outside, quietly shutting it behind him. He waited a moment, heart beating loudly in his chest, expecting to be caught any second. And then…

The T.V. blared, the Dursleys laughed again, and Harry let out the breath he had been holding. He was safe. He was free.

Harry turned towards the road, and then, without even looking back, he walked away from the house he had grown up in and out onto the street. Then he kept walking.

With his heart still thudding loudly in his chest, Harry slowly picked up his speed, walking more and more quickly down the quiet and deserted street until finally he was running, sprinting away from Dursleys as if the devil himself was chasing him. His hood fell off his head, and his hair whipped wildly in the wind as he ran, but Harry didn't care. He'd finally done it; he was truly free for the first time in his life.

Harry laughed into the night air as he ran. He'd left the Privet Drive, and he wasn't going back.

* * *

Hermione sighed loudly, lying back onto her bed as stared up at her ceiling. Her favourite book lay open on the bed beside her, but she didn't bother to pick it up, well aware that it would be a futile endeavour to even try and read it. She was in no frame of mind to concentrate on the words at the moment, not with all the thoughts already running through her head.

Hermione sighed again. She was worried. Very worried. And all her worry was focused on one particular black-haired, trouble-magnet of a boy.

For someone who practically embodied what it meant to be Gryffindor, Harry had looked more than a little scared when they'd parted at King's Cross at the beginning of the summer. Not that she could blame him after what had happened at his relatives' house the previous summer, but it still felt a little wrong for someone as brave as he was to be scared of the people who were supposed to be his family.

Harry never talked about what went on at the Dursleys in any great detail – in fact he seemed to make it a point never to talk about the Dursleys at all unless he had to - but she had her suspicions. She and Ron had discussed it at great length over the last year, but whenever they raised the matter with Harry, he would just shut them down or abruptly change the subject.

Hermione regretted not pushing him on it more, especially after seeing how scared he was at King's Cross Station, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

She sighed again. Except worry, of course.

Harry had always had an alarming knack of finding trouble, even when he didn't go looking for it. He was strong, she knew that, but everyone had a breaking point, and she was worried that Harry was moving closer to his. It was a concern that was made even worse by the fact that she knew that his awful relatives wouldn't help; in fact, if anything, they would only make it worse. He'd had a tough year at Hogwarts – they all had – but at least she had a loving family to come home to. She had parents who could comfort her, cheer her up, make her laugh.

Who did Harry have?

The Dursleys _hated_ him, Harry had been open about that much at least. He'd told Ron and her that fact almost nonchalantly, as if it was simply something not to be questioned. As if it was completely normal to be hated by your only living relatives, the people who had raised you since the tender age of one.

Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes, but she blinked them away. She wanted to help him so desperately, but there wasn't anything more she could do. She had no evidence that there was more to it than simple dislike, even though she knew in her heart that there was plenty about Harry's life at the Dursleys that he had never told his best friends. She hoped the bag she'd charmed for him was helping. She wished she could have done more. But it was out of her hands now, and she hated it.

And so instead she worried, and worried, and worried…

Suddenly the doorbell rang downstairs, but even though it was an odd time for someone to be calling at their house, Hermione didn't move from her position on the bed. It wasn't like it would be anyone for her. It was late, but even if it had been mid-afternoon, she still wouldn't have expected anyone to be at the front door asking for her. She didn't have friends here, she never had. It was another reason why she missed Hogwarts so much. Even after coming close to dying last year, she missed it with an ache that sank into her very bones. She missed her friends…

"Hermione," came a sudden call from downstairs. "Can you come down here, please?"

It was her dad. Hermione frowned. He sounded a little stressed, which was unusual for her father. He was a calm, kind-hearted, unflappable man, but right now he sounded quite 'flapped'.

"Love," her mother called as well. Clearly they'd both gone to answer the door. "Now, please, Hermione."

Now Hermione was _really_ worried. It sounded like something was wrong. Quietly, she picked up her wand from the bedside table and stood up from her bed. Then she slowly made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

She could hear her parents in the hallway, so she crept through the living room, wand outstretched in front of her. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, and it was all she could do to keep walking. The T.V. was still playing in the background; she could hear Stephen Fry's voice as he hosted her parents' favourite T.V. show, QI. She did her best to ignore the laughter of the studio audience, and instead focused on trying to listen for any potential danger.

Finally she reached the hallway door, and with a final, deep breath, pushed it open.

Her parents were there, as expected, standing by the front door. What _wasn't_ expected, however, was the figure at the door; a teenage boy, who had his head down and the hood pulled over his head. He was carrying a backpack on his shoulder that she immediately recognised, having spent so much of the last few weeks of term trying to charm it, but even then, it took a few seconds for her brain to catch up with her eyes. When it finally did, she gasped.

She moved closer, just as the figure lifted his head.

"Harry?"

* * *

 **A/N -** So, how was it? I'm about halfway through writing the next chapter already, but any feedback you have would be greatly appreciated. Does anyone out there want to read more? If you can spare a minute or two, please let me know, but for now - and until next time - thanks for reading!


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.**

 **A/N -** Well, part two is here, but before you start reading, I just want to say a massive thank you to all my readers. I received a wonderful response to the first chapter - it was far more than I was expecting, but I'm very glad (and relieved) that you liked it. Hopefully you'll like this chapter just as much. Enjoy!

* * *

 **~ Feels Like Home ~**

 **Part Two**

* * *

"Harry dear, why don't you take a seat whilst Hermione's father and I go and get you a pillow and some spare sheets for the sofa bed, okay?"

Hermione watched with a mixture fondness and exasperation as her mother fussed over Harry, gently pushing him into the living room and towards the couch. Her mother's movements showed a hint of worry and slight panic – understandable after a thirteen year old boy has turned up unannounced on your doorstep at close to midnight - but Harry looked as uncomfortable as she had ever seen him, and Hermione found herself biting back a smile in spite of her own growing anxiety. It was just so...Harry. He'd never particularly liked fuss, no matter what the circumstance, or who was doing the fussing.

Of course Hermione's amusement was a brief respite only, and all too soon her worry returned with a vengeance, especially when Hermione took the opportunity to more closely study her friend.

Harry was shivering, gripping his arms closely across his chest as he stood awkwardly by the couch; he wasn't wearing a coat – just a hoody a couple of sizes too big for him - and clearly he'd been caught in the rain at some point because his hair was even messier than usual and still dripping down his forehead.

Adding to that the fact that his pale face was pinched in exhaustion, and Hermione could clearly see that something was wrong. Looking closely, she could see his lip was split and slightly swollen as well. Hermione felt her stomach clench. Had he been in a fight? Had his relatives…?

She couldn't even finish the thought. Oh, what in Merlin's name had happened…?

"You don't have to go to any trouble…" Harry began uncomfortably.

"Nonsense," Hermione's dad said, immediately waving off Harry's concern. He looked worried as well, although he was hiding it well, Hermione noted, so as not to unnerve Harry. "It's no trouble at all. Now you just sit tight, Harry lad, and we'll have you set up in no time."

Harry had his gaze fixed firmly on the floor, so he missed the look of concern that passed between Hermione's parents. Hermione saw it though, and it only increased her own worry. Her mother caught her eye, gesturing towards Harry with a pointed look. Hermione immediately understood.

Her parents often dealt with frightened children through their work – children, sadly, were quite often terrified of dentists – and they had both developed an almost psychic ability to spot them. Apparently, thought Hermione, they'd recognised some of those 'frightened child' characteristics in Harry, and instead of pushing it, they were giving her some space so that she could talk to Harry alone…

With one more pointed look from her mother that Harry thankfully missed, Hermione's parents left the room, and Hermione immediately sat down on the sofa and pulled him down beside her. He went with her unresistingly.

"Okay Harry, what's going on?" Hermione demanded. She'd noticed the busted lip, the way he was holding his shoulder a little gingerly; the fact that he'd turned up at her house at all, let alone in the middle of the night, was a cause for concern. Hermione felt her worry for him ratchet up dramatically. "What are you doing here?"

"You gave me your address," Harry replied a little defensively.

"I was expecting you to maybe write to me the muggle way," Hermione replied. "In case your relatives still had problems with Owl post. I didn't expect you to turn up yourself…"

Something undecipherable crossed his face, and Harry stood abruptly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I should go…"

Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the couch. She made a deliberate effort to soften her tone. "Don't be silly, Harry. I don't mind you being here, and neither do my parents before you ask. I'm just…I'm worried. You turn up here in the middle of the night, out of the blue, looking like you've been in a fight…"

"I was…sort of," Harry replied. He kept his gaze fixed to the floor and ran a hand through his slightly damp hair. "I erm…I ran away, I suppose, and I didn't know where else to go…"

"You ran away?" Hermione repeated. Her stomach dropped; her fears realised. "Oh, Harry. What happened?"

"My Aunt Marge – she's my Uncle's sister – she's been staying with my relatives," Harry began quietly. "And I hate her even more than I hate them. She's horrible, and she was saying all this terrible stuff about my parents, and I snapped. I talked back, and my Uncle got mad at me, and I've just…I've had it."

"So you ran away?" Hermione asked, her heart breaking for her friend. There were things that he was leaving out, that much was obvious, but he looked so…broken. So desolate. She didn't want to push it when he looked so fragile.

"I just couldn't take it anymore," Harry said, gaze fixed firmly downwards. "I didn't know where else to go. I don't have any other family, and the Weasleys are in Egypt. I know I should have called first, but I didn't exactly plan it – "

"I'm glad you came here," Hermione interrupted firmly. "Better with my parents and I than alone on the streets, or in some grungy hotel room somewhere. Anyway, it'll be fun. I've never had a sleepover before."

That got a small smile out of Harry. "Me neither."

"What about your things?" Hermione said, glancing down at the backpack Harry had brought with him. Had her charm worked…?

"Hedwig's at the Hogwarts," Harry replied. "I sent her there yesterday with a letter for Hagrid, so she's okay. My Uncle locked my trunk away in the cupboard under the stairs, but I managed to rescue most of my things, thanks to you. I even managed to fit Hedwig's cage and my broomstick inside. I've got everything I need right here."

He gestured down at the backpack in his lap, and Hermione shot him a watery smile. Thank Merlin, she'd managed to help him after all.

"I'm just happy it worked," Hermione said, earning a smile back.

"Me too."

Hermione had sneaking suspicion that her parents had been waiting outside the door for them to finish, because they chose that moment to come back in.

"Hello again," her father said cheerfully as he entered the living room again, chucking a towel over to Harry, who caught it easily. "Here you go, Harry."

Harry had got some colour back in his cheeks, and he'd stopped shivering, but Hermione was still grateful for her dad's perceptive gesture.

"Thanks," Harry replied quietly. He began to roughly rub at his wet hair, making it even messier, but he kept his gaze down, studiously avoiding her father's eyes.

"Now, Harry," her father began, "You're very welcome here, don't get me wrong. Hermione hasn't stopped talking about you and Ron since she came home for Christmas in her first year..."

Hermione flushed at that, but thankfully Harry was too tense to notice.

"I do have to ask though," her father continued seriously. "Do your relatives know you're here? I notice that they didn't drop you off…"

"I caught a bus," Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably. "Then a taxi. I changed some of my gold into muggle money last summer, so I had enough to get here."

Harry had always been masterful at avoiding answering awkward questions, but her father was clearly having none of it.

"And your relatives…" her father pressed.

Slowly, Harry shook his head.

"So they don't know you're here?"

Harry paused, and then again, shook his head. He swallowed hard. "Erm…no, sir."

"Do they know that you're no longer at home?" her father asked gently, as if scared of spooking Harry.

Harry gave a small shrug and seemed to shrink in on himself a little bit. Hermione, still sat on the sofa next to him, placed a hand on his knee, trying to keep him calm and remind him that she cared.

Her father sighed. "I'll have to give them a ring then. Do you have their telephone number?"

Harry looked up, eyes wide and full of fear. "Please…don't…"

"I have to, Harry," her father said, his expression full of understanding. "I'm sorry, but I have to let them know where you are."

"They won't care," Harry said, his gaze dropping again.

Her father's expression tightened. "Be that as it may, I still need to let them know where you are and that you're safe. They're your guardians."

Harry let that sink in and then finally gave a jerky nod, as if suddenly resigned to the fact that his relatives would be informed of his whereabouts. He seemed to shrink in on himself even further though, and Hermione hated to see it. Harry was usually so brave, it was a little disconcerting to see him so withdrawn and…scared.

"Either way, you can stay here tonight," Her father said. Some of the tension immediately fell from Harry's thin frame at that statement. "We'll see what they say when I give them a call. As long as they're okay with it…well, you're quite welcome to stay for the rest of the summer as well, if you want."

Harry let out a breath, though he still look a little edgy. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Mr Granger said. "Now, let's get you set up on the sofa then, shall we? It's late and we're all tired. We'll talk about this more in the morning, okay?"

Hermione felt a rush of fondness for her father, who'd apparently realised that Harry was not the type of person to be pushed into talking any more than he already had.

"Okay, sir," Harry nodded, finishing off towelling his hair dry as he stood up, looking more than a little grateful for the reprieve from what he clearly viewed as an interrogation.

He stepped back from her father as he began to make up the sofa bed, folding his arms across his chest, the damp towel hanging limply on his shoulder. Hermione hated how vulnerable her friend looked.

"Do you have any pyjamas with you, Harry?" her dad asked him quietly once the bed was made up.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, picking up his bag and holding it protectively. He lifted his gaze completely, allowing her father another full look at Harry's face. This time, he clearly couldn't let it pass.

"I can see you've got a nasty cut on your lip there," her dad asked quietly. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Do we need to take you to the hospital…?"

Harry flushed red and shook his head. "Erm…my shoulder's a little sore, but I'm fine," Harry added quickly. "I don't need the hospital."

Her father gave him a long, hard look, but seemed to decide to trust that Harry was telling the truth.

"Are you hungry?" Mr Granger asked. "Thirsty?"

"No, sir," Harry replied with a shake of his head.

"Well, the kitchen is just through that door there if you change your mind," her father pointed. "And if you get hungry or thirsty during the night, feel free to help yourself. What's ours is yours, as the saying goes."

"Okay."

"Excellent. Now why don't I show you where the bathroom is then, so you can get washed up and changed, okay?"

"Okay," Harry nodded. Harry looked a little bit scared at the prospect of being alone with her father, but Hermione gave him an encouraging nod, and eventually he reluctantly followed her father's lead out of the room.

Once they were alone, her mother immediately came over to her.

"So, what's the story, Hermione?" her mother asked. "Has he told you why he's here? He lives with his Aunt and Uncle, doesn't he…?"

Hermione told her what she knew, which wasn't much.

"He ran away, mum," Hermione told her, tears filling her eyes. "I think…I think he got into a fight with his Uncle. He wouldn't tell me any more than that, but I think he's scared of going back."

"Oh, it's okay, love," Her mother said, pulling her tearful daughter into her arms. Hermione wrapped her arms around her mother and took comfort in the fact that she wasn't dealing with this alone. "It's going to be okay. He's safe here. Your dad will give them a call and we'll get this all straightened out, but for now, Harry's safe."

"Okay, mum," Hermione replied, just as her father and Harry made their return, Harry dressed in his pyjamas. Hermione pulled away from her mother – she was still a teenager after all – and watched as Harry uncertainly made his way over to the couch.

"Right, Harry," her father, his eyes following Harry. "So you know where the bathroom is now, but if you need either one of us during the night, our bedroom is the first door on the right as you come up the stairs, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, looking as if he would rather die than go looking for them in the night.

"Hermione's bedroom is second on the right," her father continued. He gave him a stern look. "But I would prefer if you came to us first."

Harry flushed, then nodded.

"Now, just one more thing, and then we'll leave you and Hermione to say goodnight," her father began. He handed Harry a spare bit of paper and a pen. "I need your relatives' telephone number."

Harry paled slightly, but seemed to recognise that it was something that Mr Granger was not going to budge on. Reluctantly, he wrote down the number on the paper and handed it back to Mr Granger.

"Thank you, Harry," Mr Granger said with a smile, before turning back to his daughter. "Hermione, your mother and I will be in the kitchen calling Mr and Mrs Dursley. Why don't you and Harry say goodnight, and then I'll come up to tuck you in."

There was a teasing grin on his face that showed he wasn't being serious, but Hermione flushed red anyway. Merlin, he was so embarrassing…

Hermione looked towards her friend, hoping for some sympathy, but when she met Harry's eyes, she only saw wistfulness tinged with a little bit of sadness. And suddenly Hermione felt a little ashamed at her embarrassment. Here was Harry, who had never had parents to embarrass him, or care for him, or love him, not since he was a year old, and she had the nerve to be annoyed at her dad for teasing her. He wouldn't even remember what his mum and dad looked like if it wasn't for his photo album...

"Earth to Hermione…"

"Hmm?" Hermione said, her attention jerking back to her parents. Her mother gave her a knowing look; it wasn't the first time she'd got lost in her own head…

"I was just saying goodnight, Hermione," her mother said. "Now, say goodnight to Harry, then off to bed with you. Your father's gone in the kitchen to call Mr and Mrs Dursley, but don't take too long or I really will send him up to tuck you in once he's finished."

"Mum…" Hermione moaned.

"Don't 'mum' me, young lady," Mrs Granger said with a smile. "It's well past your bedtime, so just be quick, okay? Harry looks ready for some sleep, although he's probably too polite to say so, so don't you be keeping him up with all your chattering."

Harry flushed along with Hermione this time, but thankfully, Mrs Granger decided that was enough teasing for once night. With one final wave at them both, she turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

"Sorry about that," Hermione said apologetically. "For some reason, they both think they're funny."

"Don't be sorry," Harry said with a shake of his head. He sat down on the edge of his sofa bed. "They're…really great. I like them. You're lucky."

"I know," Hermione replied. She moved closer to Harry, but didn't sit down. Her mother was right. Harry looked tired. "Listen, Harry…I know I've said it already, but I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too," Harry said. He still looked a little worn-down, a little vulnerable, but that was to be expected. He would be okay, she told herself. She would make sure of it.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Hermione said, shooting him a smile. "I wouldn't want them to follow through on their threat."

Harry climbed into his makeshift bed and turned to her, letting out a deep breath. He looked nervous, apprehensive and relieved, all at once. Hermione hoped that soon, he would just look happy.

"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said as she turned to leave.

"Goodnight," he replied. "And Hermione?"

She turned back to face him. He seemed a bit embarrassed, but determined to get whatever he wanted to say out.

"Thanks," he said seriously. "I mean it. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well," she replied as she finally reached the door. She smiled at him. "Then it's a good thing you'll never have to find out."

* * *

 **A/N -** So, how was it? I hope you're all still enjoying the story and don't mind the slow tempo. I don't like rushing things, and even though I'm still only expecting this story to be relatively short, I still don't want to push the characters too far too quickly. Hopefully you don't mind? As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Until next time, thanks for reading!


	3. Part Three

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.**

 **A/N -** Hello again! Welcome to the newest chapter in this little story of mine. This one is the longest yet, and it's written entirely from the point of view of Hermione's parents, which I found to be a bit of a struggle. Not much is known about them in the books, so I've taken quite a bit of liberty with their characterisation, mainly going with instinct and writing them as the kind of parents that I imagined could bring up someone like Hermione. I hope they seem realistic to you. I couldn't find any mention of their names in canon either, so I made those up as well, but if I'm wrong, please let me know and I'll update it as soon as I can. Until then, please enjoy this newest instalment!

* * *

 **~ Feels Like Home ~**

 **Part Three**

* * *

"What an arrogant, infuriating, unreasonable…arse! _"_

Katherine Granger's attention was immediately pulled from the pages of her well-worn book as she watched her husband, David, flop face-first down onto the bed beside her, before exhaling loudly into his pillow.

She allowed him a few seconds to try and calm himself and collect his thoughts, and tried to do the same herself, even though she had a sinking feeling that for both of them, it would be somewhat of a lost cause. In fact, David in particular had seemed frazzled, frustrated and completely wound up since the moment he'd finished his phone call with Harry's uncle – unusual for such an intrinsically calm and mild-mannered man – and his mood certainly hadn't improved since then.

Until now, she'd held back her natural curiosity and had refrained from asking him for details on the conversation, instead leaving him to stew in his thoughts as they'd both finally readied themselves for bed. At the time, she had been unwilling to push it when they were both already tired enough, but even so, he'd gone about his night-time ablutions with a quiet fury that she was sure was directed almost entirely at one Mr Vernon Dursley.

That was worrisome in and of itself of course, but after seeing the state Harry had been in when he'd arrived on their doorstep, she didn't need much convincing that something was gravely wrong with that family…

"Didn't go well, then?" she asked casually, even though inside her stomach felt like as if it was filled with angry butterflies. Truthfully, she'd had a bad feeling about it all since the minute Harry had walked through their door, but part of her - a part she wasn't exactly proud of - wasn't sure she wanted to know…

Her husband simply huffed loudly, turning his head to the side to meet her worried eyes. "That would be an understatement. That man is such a…" David trailed off, clenching his fists until the skin turned white.

"An arrogant, infuriating, unreasonable arse?" she suggested.

"He's impossible to talk to," he told her, sighing loudly as he finally pulled himself up to sit beside her against the headboard. "Absolutely impossible. I don't know how Harry has lived with them for so long without going stark raving mad."

"Had they even noticed that Harry was gone?" Katherine asked. She put down her book and turned to face him, her mind firmly on the teenager sleeping on their sofa bed downstairs. That poor boy…

David shook his head and her stomach sank. "I told them him that Harry had turned up on our doorstep, and Dursley immediately went to check the lad's room. When he came back to the phone, he was spluttering and swearing and demanding to speak with the boy "immediately". I told him Harry was asleep, and that we could drop him back home tomorrow if they wanted, and Dursley just said "Keep the bloody runt for all I care. Good for nothing layabout causes more trouble than he's worth!"

"No!" Katherine exclaimed, hand covering her mouth in shock. How could someone speak about their nephew like that…?

Her husband shot her that clearly said that he still couldn't believe the man had talked about Harry like that either, even after ruminating on it for the best part of an hour.

After a few seconds more, David continued. "Then before I could say anything else, he just hung up." He shook his head. "I'm telling you, the man's nothing but an– "

"Arrogant, infuriating, unreasonable arse," she finished a nod. As her shock began to fade away, sadness was quickly taking its place. She frowned deeply. "Doesn't he care for his nephew at all?"

"I don't know," her husband replied. He looked pensive and worried, his own frown lining his face. "But…I'm not getting a good feeling about this; I'm really not. Something's been going on in that house, and it isn't good. I don't like it."

"Me neither," she replied. "Oh, that poor boy."

Their Hermione had always been a good judge of character - even if she'd often struggled to put it into practice when she was younger - but they'd only ever heard good things from her about Harry. Even from the very brief interaction she and her husband had had with the teenager earlier that night, he seemed to be a quiet, polite boy. Certainly not a layabout who causes more trouble than he's worth…

"It's the injuries that are bothering me more than anything," David admitted after a couple of quiet minutes. "I believe him when he says he's okay, but Harry's clearly taken a punch recently, and the fact that he won't elaborate on the circumstances…well, it has me worried, that's for sure. Should we be calling the police? Social services? Do wizards even have social services?"

Katherine didn't know the answers to any of those questions, and she _hated_ not knowing.

"I'm worried as well," she replied, sighing quietly. "Hermione too." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "Harry and Ron have been such good friends to her. I'm so glad she has them."

"I was so worried about her when she was younger," David admitted quietly, though it wasn't news to Katherine; it was actually something they'd discussed quite a bit over the years. "And you know that I wasn't sold on the idea of her attending a boarding school, at least not at first. I just couldn't see how it was going to help her develop socially, but honestly, she's come along beautifully. And I have a feeling that despite the trouble the three of them have managed to get into over the last couple of years, Ron and Harry have had quite a bit to do with that."

"Hmm," Katherine hummed in agreement. The last year in particular had been tough on their daughter. Something had happened to her, something to do with a Chamber of Secrets, but Hermione had been unusually tight-lipped and the school themselves hadn't really explained anything to them either. David was of a mind to arrange a meeting with the Headmaster in order to get to the bottom of it, but Katherine had suggested that they give Hermione a chance to talk to them first. Now that Harry was here, she wondered if all that would take a back-seat to more pressing matters…

"The lad'll be alright," David said, stretching over to give her a peck on the cheek. It was their little nightly ritual, something they'd done since they'd first shared a bed, and it signalled to Katherine that it was time to sleep. Sure enough, David pulled himself under the covers and let out a big sigh as he closed his eyes. She knew he wouldn't fall asleep immediately - she could tell he was still too wired for that - but he clearly thought they should make at least some effort to get at least some rest before the sun came up.

"Get some sleep, love," he muttered quietly. "We'll get everything sorted tomorrow."

Katherine nodded, and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. As they finally settled down to get some sleep, Katherine tried to stop her mind from whirring. It was difficult though, when she was still consumed with thoughts of a younger Harry, living in a home with a brute of a man who clearly didn't care for him. It wasn't fair, she thought sadly. Whatever was going on in that house, it wasn't fair.

In the end though, she decided to listen to her husband, who despite often being quite ridiculous, was also almost always right.

They would sort it out tomorrow. Harry would be alright, she told herself forcefully as she finally began to drop off. For this summer at least, they would make sure of it.

* * *

David yawned as he stumbled downstairs, clumsily pulling the tie around his dressing gown. To say he was tired was an understatement. He'd barely slept a wink last night and would've loved to have a lie in for once, especially since he wasn't due to work at all today, but before he'd even begun to consider it as an option, his sleepy brain had finally remembered their unexpected house-guest. That particular thought had woken him up fairly quickly after that, and he hadn't even bothered to try and drop off again, well aware that it would be a futile effort.

Instead, he'd dragged his weary body out of bed and had made his way downstairs so that he could check that Harry was okay. Quite apart from the concerning – albeit non-life threatening – injuries he had arrived with, Harry had looked exhausted and drained last night. David could only hope the lad was still getting some well-deserved rest…

"Bugger," David muttered to himself, as he finally stepped into the living room only to find that the sofa bed empty, and that there was no sign of Harry anywhere. In fact, the soda bed wasn't even a sofa bed anymore; it had been pushed back into its usual sofa shape, and the bed sheets had been folded up neatly and placed to once side. If it wasn't for Harry's backpack, still sitting forlornly beside the sofa where he'd left it last night, he would have been sure that he'd dreamt up the boy's arrival altogether. As it was, the boy's absence was still concerning. Harry hadn't run away again, had he…?

"Oh Harry, you should have started weeks ago!" came his daughter's somewhat shrill voice from the kitchen. David smiled to himself as relief filled his chest. Harry was still in their home after all; he hadn't left.

"Hermione," the boy replied patiently, although David could detect a little bit of a whine in his voice. "We have ages before all the homework's due. It's summer…"

"I'll start a summer homework plan for you," Hermione replied, blatantly ignoring the reluctance in her friend's voice. "That way, you can make sure you have enough time to start on your reading…"

"Hermione…"

Biting back a smile, David decided he'd been eavesdropping for long enough and that it was time to rescue the poor devil before Hermione followed through on her threat.

"Good morning, children," he said cheerfully, putting on a sing-song voice as he pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen.

Harry looked a little startled at his abrupt and overly chipper entrance, but Hermione, used to his antics, simply rolled her eyes at him and focused back on the books that were spread out on their little kitchen table.

"Good morning, Hermione," he repeated pointedly.

"Morning, dad," she replied distractedly, eyes fixed downwards. She even had the audacity to wave her hand at him, giving David the distinct impression that he was being dismissed.

This time it was David's turn to roll his eyes. Harry caught the look and grinned, though he hesitated slightly when David turned his attention to him.

"Morning, Harry," David said, smiling back in an effort to reassure the lad. "Sleep well?"

"Erm…yes, thank you, sir," Harry replied a little nervously. David tried to hide his frown. The sofa-bed was uncomfortable at the best of times, but the boy seemed to be quite sincere. Harry must've felt as tired as he'd looked last night to get a good night's sleep on that awful contraption…

"Good, good," David replied. He gestured down to all the papers, scrolls and books scattered across the kitchen table. "What's all this then?"

"Homework," Harry replied, glancing towards Hermione with a look that could only be described as exasperated fondness. David felt his estimation of the lad shoot up almost immediately. During Hermione's first year at Hogwarts, David had been quite worried that Ron and Harry had been taking advantage of Hermione – perhaps using her to help improve their homework like some of the children at her primary school had done - and although he'd long since changed his opinion on that, thanks mostly to Hermione's letters home, it was still nice to see with his own two eyes that Harry really was Hermione's friend.

"Homework? But it's the summer holidays," David replied, deliberately creating a whine in his voice to match Harry's earlier effort. Hermione had got most of her brains from her mother, but she'd got her obsessive streak from him. It had turned out to be quite a potent combination in truth.

Harry, on the other, didn't seem to share her enthusiasm for learning, even though he had clearly learned to humour her. A boy after his own heart, he thought with a smile. David decided it was time to truly rescue the poor boy before it all got too out of hand and they were _all_ doing homework…

"Right, Hermione, Harry," David said suddenly, moving closer to the table. Harry jumped a little at the sudden movement, but hid it relatively well. David paused and regrouped. "Get dressed, the pair of you. We're going out."

"Out?" Hermione asked, her eyes finally snapping up. "Where? Oh, do we have to? I have so much school work to do!"

"I thought you said you'd finished all your homework?" Harry asked with a knowing grin. He shot a nervous glance towards David, as if he wasn't sure if teasing Hermione was okay, but seemed reassured by David's responding grin.

"Well, yes, of course I have," Hermione replied, waving away Harry's teasing smile. "But I still need to make start on my reading for next year. As do you."

"And you'll have plenty of time to do that later," David told her in his best stern dad voice. "But it's a beautiful day outside, and your mother and I fancy going for a nice walk."

It actually wasn't that nice of a day yet, but the weather forecast was much better for later in the morning. Anyway, a bit of drizzle never hurt anyone…

"Well, have a nice time," Hermione said, deliberately choosing to misunderstand him. She turned her attention back to her books, and Harry – the poor lad – just sat with his eyes flicking between the two of them, as if he couldn't work out whether this was normal for them.

"We're going on a _family_ walk, Hermione," David said with a barely contained eye-roll. "That means you too. And Harry of course, while he's staying here."

"You want me to join you?" Harry asked, looking faintly surprised at even being considered.

"Obviously, Harry," Hermione interjected, frowning at her friend. "We could hardly go without you and leave you here all by yourself."

"Obviously," Harry said with a forced smile, his voice a little flat. David frowned; he had a sinking feeling that actually, Harry was no stranger to being left behind. Damn those Dursleys…

"Well, chop chop," David said, clapping his hands together in an attempt to brush past the slightly awkward moment. "Let's get moving, shall we?"

"Fine," Hermione huffed, gathering up the books she'd brought to the kitchen table with obvious reluctance. David noticed a flash of relief on Harry's face though. He hid his own smile at that, well aware of how…focused his daughter could be sometimes.

"Now, before you started talking about your school work," David asked, "Did you happen to sort Harry out with some breakfast?"

"We had cereal, dad," Hermione said with another roll of her eyes. Oh, David thought ruefully, the joys of being a parent to a teenager.

"Good," David said, choosing his battle and reluctantly letting the attitude go. "Then go and get dressed please, while I have a quick word with Harry."

His daughter must have caught some of the seriousness on his face, but she clearly trusted him with Harry, because she left without another word. David felt an odd flush of pride at earning his daughter's approval.

Harry, on the other hand, looked as if he would rather be anywhere else.

"Is this about my relatives, sir?" Harry asked, swallowing slightly. David briefly wondered about addressing the fact that he was most certainly not a 'sir', but the teenager seemed anxious enough as it was. Anyway, apparently Harry was the type to 'bite the bullet', as it were, clearly eager to get to the crux of the matter; it seemed prudent to at least grant the boy's wish in that respect...

"Yes, it is," David said seriously. Harry didn't make any move to stand up from the breakfast table, but he did tense up when David joined him. David pretended not to notice. He sighed, instead trying to work out how to start. "Harry…"

"They don't want me back, do they?" Harry said, his tone flat, unsurprised, _resigned_ even. He didn't seem upset at all, but then David didn't know the boy very well.

"I'm sure they're just a little upset that you ran away like that."

Harry scoffed, and clenched his fists. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, sir, but…they don't like me. They...er...they never have." Harry paused and unclenched his fists slowly, deliberately. "I reckon I did them a favour by leaving. There's not a cat in hell's chance they'll take me back now that they've finally got rid of me. And…"

Harry trailed off, keeping his gaze firmly down.

"And...?" prompted David after a few seconds.

Harry swallowed. "And I'm not sure I want to go back anyway," he muttered quietly.

"Well, we don't have to decide anything right now," David said, his heart thudding. God, what on earth was he supposed to say to that? What was he supposed to do? He wasn't a social worker or a teacher. He wasn't trained for this…

Before he could even make an attempt to say the right thing though, Harry continued.

"Thank you for letting me stay last night, sir," Harry said, a little awkwardly. "I…erm…I really appreciate it. If you can just give me to the end of the day, I'm sure I'll be able to sort something else out."

For the second time in a minute, David was left thunder-stuck, so much so that any possible response got lost in his throat. What on earth was the boy talking about…?

"Maybe there's a way I can get to Diagon Alley," Harry mused to himself, oblivious to the other man's reaction. "Once I have some more money out of my vault, I can-"

"You can stay here, Harry," David interrupted, finally pulling himself out of his shock. "I told you that last night."

This time it was Harry's turn to be thunder-struck. "You were being serious?"

"You're welcome here, Harry," David said firmly, suddenly aware of the fact that whatever had gone on in the Dursley home over the years, it was obvious that the boy had not heard that enough in his short life. "For the whole summer, if needs be."

"But you don't even know me?" Harry asked, apparently genuinely confused as to why he wouldn't let a thirteen year old boy make his own way to London to…what? Live life on the streets?

"I know enough," David replied. "You're a good friend to my daughter, Harry. I'm very grateful to you and Ron. My Hermione is a headstrong girl, but sometimes she struggles to…relate to others her age. You and Ron…you mean the world to her."

Harry's cheeks flushed an interesting shade of pink and he immediately dropped his gaze. He looked pleased though, as well as a little surprised; as if he couldn't believe that the man's kind words had been directed at him.

"She's….they're my best friends," Harry stammered, obviously still a little thrown by the outright praise. "I…before Hogwarts I didn't have any." Harry hesitated. "Friends that is. So when she and Ron decided to be friends with me…it meant a lot. So…er…they mean the world to me too, sir."

"I'm glad to hear that, Harry," David said softly.

Harry gave a jerky nod, and David wondered what the admission had cost the lad. He knew better to press it though.

"Right," David said, standing up from the table. "Now that that's sorted, shall we get ready to go? Have you got a fresh change of clothes in that impressive backpack of yours?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, also standing up.

"Well, feel free to use the shower if you want," David said. He had no idea what restrictions the Dursleys had placed on the boy at home, and decided it would be best to spell things out for now.

Harry looked relieved that he didn't have to ask to use the facilities, which meant David had judged the situation correctly, for now at least.

Of course there was no telling what else he was missing, he realised his stomach dropping like a stone. Should he be checking on the boy's injuries? Pushing him for answers? Or should be let it go and trust that Harry really _was_ okay?

David felt a flash of panic rush through his veins; suddenly he felt woefully inadequate to deal with the situation that had been expectantly thrust onto them. What the hell were they doing...?

"I'll do that," Harry said, interrupting David's panicked thoughts. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," David said.

David tried to pull himself together. Harry was safe. He was okay, and Dursley – that imbecile – couldn't touch the lad here. Everything else would itself work out, David told himself. It was a lie, David knew - especially since he could neither predict the future nor control it - but it was a lie he was happy to let himself believe, for now at least.

* * *

Half an hour later and both kids were waiting dutifully by the door, although Hermione still looked a little too mutinous for his liking. He was fairly sure she wouldn't say anything in front of Harry, but he had a feeling he would be hearing about it in great detail later. Mainly how he was ruining her life by refusing to allow her to wallow away in her room with a mountain of books…

He internally rolled his eyes. The way Hermione would undoubtedly tell it, she would never catch up on all her school work now, even though he was confident that Harry's arrival had already scuppered those plans. Idly, he wondered what tactics Harry and Ron had to resort to at school in order to get his dedicated daughter to take a break from her studies…

David shook the thought away and made his way over to the two of them.

"Change of plans," David said as he joined them, shrugging on his coat. He saw the flame of hope flicker in Hermione's eyes, but this time he was quite happy to extinguish it. "Your mother's staying here, so it's just the three of us, okay?"

He and Katherine had had a hurried conversation while the two teenagers were getting dressed, and they'd agreed that it would be best if she stayed behind in order to tentatively contact the relevant authorities for advice on what to do. They wouldn't use Harry's name, not yet, but it would be good to get some idea of what they were letting themselves in for…

"So we still have to go?" Hermione asked, her face dropping.

"Yes," David replied firmly, opening the front door and gesturing for the two teenagers to go ahead of him. Harry went first, shoving his hands deep into the pockets over his oversized hoody. David frowned; the boy wasn't wearing a coat. He hadn't been wearing one last night either. Did he even own one? David glanced outside and realised it had stopped drizzling at least, so he decided to let it go for now. He would certainly think on it later, however.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said bracingly. "You like it when you, me, and Ron go for walks around the grounds of Hogwarts."

"This isn't the same thing, Harry," Hermione replied, but David could see a smile peeking out. Good job, Harry…

"You can even tell me all about the Great Goblin Rebellion of 1753 while we walk if you want," Harry grinned, as they began to walk down the path and onto the street.

"The Great Goblin Rebellion happened in 1853, Harry," Hermione replied with a grin of her own.

"Meh," Harry shot back. "I bet there was a rebellion in 1753 as well. The way Professor Binns tells it, the Goblins are _always_ rebelling…"

Hermione laughed loudly as she slapped at Harry's arm playfully, and in that moment, as he continued to follow the two laughing teens who were walking on ahead of him, David decided that he and Katherine would do what they could for the boy who, along with Ronald Weasley, had done what had seemed impossible only a few years ago; they'd become Hermione's friends.

* * *

The walk had turned out to be quite pleasant after all; the weather had held up, the scenery had been nice, and David had enjoyed walking behind the two teens as they'd chatted and joked and laughed about all sorts of things that he didn't understand.

It had been fun, and as they finally turned back onto their street, David was a little sad it was over. Still, it had perked up the two teenagers and had got them out of the house, which had been the whole point of the walk in the first place. In fact he was just in the process of congratulating himself on a good job well done when he caught sight of his house, and noticed strange man with long, wispy, white hair standing patiently by the front door. The stranger, who was oddly dressed in a bright purple suit, had his back to them, and David felt a sudden rush apprehension run though his body.

"David…" Katherine said as she noticed them approach, looking more than a little relieved that they were home. She was stood in the doorway, but was making no move to let the man in.

"What is it?" he asked. The two teenagers beside him quietened at his tense tone. He glanced briefly at the stranger, but his eyes soon fixed onto his wife. "Has something happened?"

"No," she shook her head. "But you better come in, all of you. We've been waiting for you."

David was glad Katherine had waited until he was home before letting a stranger into their house, and he nodded to her in approval. She glared at him in return, as if to say 'I could've handled myself perfectly fine', so instead he gave the man beside him a guarded look. "We?"

"Hello," said the stranger, his voice serene yet ancient. He turned around, revealing himself to be an old man, a man who was undoubtedly a wizard. In fact to David he looked like Gandalf from Lord of the Rings dressed in purple. The beard itself was long and white and his half-moon spectacles gave him an air of intelligence that David had seldom seen in anyone, whilst the twinkling eyes behind them suggested nothing but raw power.

"Hi," David said uncertainly, moving closer to the door and his wife. Hermione had explained that there were good wizards and bad wizards, but he had no way to tell which type this man was...

"Dad," Hermione said, coming up on his side. "This is -"

"My name is Professor Dumbledore," he introduced himself. "I'm currently the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I don't believe we've met."

"David Granger," he said, letting out a little sigh of relief holding out his hand almost subconsciously. Hermione had told them all about Dumbledore. He was, according to her, 'one of the good guys'. "I'm Hermione's father."

"Indeed," said the Headmaster, smiling at them. "I do hope you'll forgive me for arriving on your doorstep unannounced, however there is an urgent matter we must discuss. I'm afraid it cannot wait."

"Of course, Headmaster," David said. Katherine immediately moved aside to let them in.

"You're here because of me, aren't you, sir?" Harry asked suddenly as he followed them inside the house, all happiness from the walk gone in an instant. The boy from last night was suddenly back; tense, exhausted, hurt. The transformation was startling and sad at the same time, and David hated to see it.

Professor Dumbledore looked down at the boy from the top of his half-moon spectacles and inspected Harry closely, giving him a sad, serious look. David found himself impressed when Harry held the man's gaze without blinking. He wasn't sure he would have been able to do the same, had it been him in that position. The sheer power behind those eyes…

David shivered. It was obvious, even to a mere muggle like him, that this wasn't a man to be trifled with. Suddenly he wondered what that meant for Harry.

"Yes, Harry," the man said sadly. The power seemed to flicker behind his eyes before fading away completely. Then Dumbledore just seemed tired and old. "I'm afraid we have rather a lot to discuss."

* * *

 **A/N -** So, how was it? I hope you'll forgive the slight cliff-hanger at the end of this chapter, but I wanted to stop it here so that I could get your opinions on Dumbledore's introduction into this story before I continue with the rest of the story. Dumbledore is a little like marmite in the Harry Potter fandom; you either love him or you hate him. Anyone who's ever read a story of mine knows where I fall on that particular spectrum, but I'd still love to hear your thoughts on the matter. What do you think Dumbledore will do about Harry running away form the Dursleys? And how will Hermione's parents react? Let me know what you think, but until next time, and as always, thanks for reading!


	4. Part Four

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.**

 **A/N –** Hello! Thank you so much for all your comments after the last chapter! I'm still a little overwhelmed by how many people are reading this little story, but I appreciate your ongoing support all the same. This is a shorter chapter, admittedly, but it's definitely important to the plot – as you'll see soon, so without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

 **~ Feels Like Home ~**

 **Part Four**

* * *

"Harry, my dear boy," Professor Dumbledore began softly as he looked at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "I can't help but notice that you are injured."

David shifted slightly in his seat, but forced himself to remain silent. The Headmaster's words seemed sincere enough, but as David looked from old man to young boy with a creeping sense of anxiousness, he couldn't help but want to step in, to rescue the boy from a situation that was clearly making him uncomfortable. Still, he knew he had to let the conversation play out a little bit longer before he could decide whether he needed to intervene.

After a little prompting by Katherine, the Headmaster had taken a seat in an armchair, and looked for all the world as if he was entirely comfortable there – despite the fact that the old wizard was as out of place in their living room as an elephant would be - whilst Harry had chosen to perch on the edge of the couch opposite Dumbledore, sitting tensely, almost as if readying himself to flee.

"I'm fine," Harry muttered. David watched as Harry, as if to contradict his words, absently rubbed at his sore lip – which was still a little red and bloodied, if not bleeding. The Headmaster frowned deeply, and Harry immediately flushed, dropping his shaky hand as soon as he realised that the man was still watching him closely.

"How do you take your tea, Headmaster?" Katherine asked, standing up. Despite the tense situation, David found himself almost smiling; his wife had never liked awkward silences.

"Oh, a dash of milk and two sugars, thank you," Dumbledore replied serenely, although David was starting to suspect that it was at least partially a mask, especially when he detected a slight tightness in the man's words. And of course, the Headmaster still hadn't taken his piercing, blue eyes off Harry's lip…

Katherine left the room to make the tea, but David remained firmly seated on the couch, as did Hermione. He didn't know Dumbledore personally, having never met the man, although Hermione had assured him that the man was the very definition of good. And he didn't think Dumbledore would _harm_ Harry per se, but David still had a feeling that Harry would need all the support he could get during the next few minutes.

"Now, Harry, I've just come from Privet Drive, where I had a very interesting conversation with your Uncle," Dumbledore began, his gaze fixed on Harry. David felt the power in those eyes again, but it seemed as if Harry was doing everything he could to avoid them this time.

Dumbledore remained unperturbed as he continued, "Of course, the various complex wards and charms I placed there many years ago always promptly inform me when you're no longer in the house, but when you didn't return all night, it set alarm bells ringing, as it were."

Harry didn't react, didn't even move a muscle.

"So you see," Dumbledore continued. "I was already quite concerned about your safety when I arrived at your relatives' door earlier this morning. When your Uncle informed me that you were staying at your friend Hermione's house for the rest of the summer, I confess, I was quite relieved, although your Uncle did appear to be a tad upset with you for leaving without asking them first."

David had to admit, it was a tactful way to phrase it, although the last sentence was said pointedly, clearly an attempt to gently push Harry into speech. Harry, for his part, kept his eyes firmly on the floor, but his body did finally shift slightly in response to the man's words.

"Why did you run away, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Harry shrugged and seemed to close in on himself.

"Harry..."

It was clear that the Headmaster required a verbal answer, so the boy cleared his throat. "My Uncle and I had a…disagreement, sir, that's all."

David pursed his lips but held his tongue. If what Hermione said was true, Albus Dumbledore was an incredibly intelligent man, so he was confident that the Headmaster would be able to see through Harry's lie as easily as David could.

"Harry, forgive me," Dumbledore said gently, "But although you are a very independent boy, I find it hard to believe that you ran away from home because of a mere disagreement. What really happened, my boy?"

"We had an argument," Harry muttered. "He said some stuff and so did my Aunt Marge, and I…I didn't like it, so I left." The boy lifted his eyes up, looking up at the Headmaster through dark eyelashes. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to cause anyone any trouble -"

"Oh, not at all, my boy," Dumbledore reassured quickly with a soft smile. To David's eye, again it seemed sincere. "We were just worried for you."

"We?"

"There are a lot of people who care about you, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "Why, even the Minister of Magic was prepared to join the search to make sure you were okay. I believe he has been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, just in case you turned up there."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

Dumbledore waved away the apology. "No matter, Harry, no matter. What's done is done, as they say." The Headmaster paused, as if trying to gather his thoughts, before continuing, "The question, I'm afraid, is what we are going to do with you now…"

"I don't want to go back," Harry told him. "I just…can't. Please sir, don't take me back."

"Harry…"

"Tea's here," Katherine said, bustling back into the room with a tray full of tea and biscuits. She passed them round to everyone, tactfully ignoring the tense atmosphere she had apparently unwittingly walked back into.

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, then turned his attention back to Harry, "Now, Harry…"

"If I might make a suggestion, Professor?" David interrupted with an apologetic look towards the older man. Harry looked more and more likely to flee, and David took that as his cue to come forward with an idea that he and Katherine had already discussed that morning.

Dumbledore gave him a long, searching look, and David did his best not to flinch. After a long moment, the Headmaster must have found what he was looking for, because he slowly inclined his head.

"Well, Katherine and I are actually registered as foster carers," David interjected, trying not to appear nervous in front of such an obviously powerful man. "In fact we have been since Hermione first left for Hogwarts, when we realised that we had a perfectly good child's bedroom going to waste."

"We're dentists," Katherine added, "But we work in a private practice that we co-own with some of our colleagues. That gives us the flexibility to take time-off whenever we want. It suits us, because it means we can spend as much time as we want with Hermione when she's home from school I the summer particularly, but it also means that we have the flexibility to offer struggling children the extra attention they need during particularly difficult times in their lives."

"I see. So you spend your limited free time looking after children with troubling home situations," Dumbledore summarised, eyes flickering over to Harry. Then Dumbledore smiled warmly at them. "How wonderful of you both."

David had a feeling that the Headmaster already knew where he was going with this, but David continued regardless.

"I was a foster child myself," David admitted. "My parents died when I was quite young, and I spent a few years in the system until I was finally adopted when I was eleven. Whilst some of the placements left a lot to be desired, I mostly lived in good foster homes, and I always wanted to return the favour when I was old enough and settled enough to do so."

David chanced a quick glance at Harry himself, and noticed that he had gone from staring at the ground to suddenly hanging on his every word. Hermione, of course, already knew his background –they'd had the conversation as soon as they'd thought she was old enough to understand – but Harry seemed a little surprised that his friend's dad had had such a difficult start in life.

"When Hermione was born, we focused our attention on her, obviously," David continued. "But when she left for Hogwarts, it gave us the opportunity to finally follow through on the promise I'd made to my ten year old self. So we registered as foster carers."

"Of course it turned out to be quite a lengthy process, so it was some time before we had any children placed with us," Katherine advised. "But since then, we've taken in twelve foster kids on short-term placements, and we are quite prepared to take on more."

"What we're trying to say, Headmaster," David continued, taking a deep breath. "Is that we would be quite willing and prepared to foster Harry for the rest of the summer, and beyond if necessary. The lad needs a home, a good one, and we are quite happy to provide one until more a permanent arrangement can be made."

"Mr Granger, sir," Harry finally said, before the Headmaster could even begin to respond. "Are you sure? I'm not like those other kids, you know. I'm not…normal."

"We've fostered quite a few kids in situations just like yours, Harry," Katherine said softly. Of course, none of them were wizards as far as they were aware, and the social workers had always taken the lead in trying to support the children emotionally with what had happened to them, but still…

"But I'm…I'm Harry Potter," he argued. "Everything is always different when it comes to me."

"Harry is correct, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said. "Even at thirteen, his importance in our world cannot be overstated."

"Hermione has already told us the story," David said.

"Then you will know that Voldemort was not defeated that night, despite what many believe," Dumbledore replied. "He is in hiding still, waiting for the chance to return and finish what he started."

"He's already tried to kill me twice," Harry said quietly. "He's probably going to try again."

"There is something else you should know," Dumbledore continued gravely. "One of his most loyal supporters has just escaped from Azkaban, the wizarding prison." At that, The Headmaster turned to David. "You may have seen mention of it on the muggle news. Sirius Black."

"The murderer?" Katherine asked. "He's a wizard?"

"I'm guessing that the reason you're mentioning this now is that he's after me too. Am I right?" Harry questioned. At Dumbledore's nod, Harry dropped his head. "Great."

David briefly wondered how many times the child had been in danger to be so blasé about it now. Suddenly he had a feeling that there was quite a bit that Hermione had been leaving out of her letters home.

Before he could ponder it too much, Dumbledore continued, "He does, I'm afraid, pose a real threat to Harry's safety. If, and please do correct me if I have misunderstood, you are offering to foster Harry for the summer, you need to know that to do so would put your family in grave danger. Protections can be put in place of course, but none as safe as the wards at his relative's house. He is protected there by an ancient magic that few, especially those like Voldemort, understand."

"I am?" Harry said uncertainly.

Dumbledore sighed every, suddenly looking every inch the old man he was, "I had hoped that I would not have to tell you this for many years, but in hindsight, it is something I should have perhaps told you during your first year at Hogwarts. "

"What are you talking about, Sir?"

"It was I who placed you at your Aunt and Uncle's house, after your parents were murdered," Dumbledore began. "My reasoning for this was simple. I wanted you to live, and by placing you with your mother's sister, I was able to incorporate your mother's protection into a set of the strongest wards imaginable. It was the only way I could be certain you would be safe. When your mother died to save you, she gave you a lingering protection that Voldemort never expected; a protection that flows through your veins to this very day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood."

"But Aunt Petunia…" Harry began. "She never loved me."

David felt his heart break at the certainty in the boy's words, but they were given no time to dwell on it.

"But she took you," Dumbledore replied gravely. "Whilst you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort."

Harry suddenly stood, staring at Dumbledore for a long moment, as if trying to match what he was hearing with what he thought was actually being said. And then…

"You're going to send me back," Harry said, his whole body tense as if readying himself for a fight.

"Harry…"

"I don't want to go back," the boy replied. Standing with his fists clenched. "I won't."

"You misunderstand me, Harry – "

"No, I understand you perfectly," Harry shot back. "I'm only safe from Voldemort while I'm staying at my relatives' home, so you want me to go back."

"No, Harry," Dumbledore continued, his voice quiet, firm, and just a little bit desperate. The man sighed, before continuing. "I knew, when I placed you with your Aunt and Uncle, that I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years, but as always, I had faith in the protection. You were, remember, in far more danger than anyone but perhaps I had realised, and not only from Voldemort, but his supporters as well. Supporters like Sirius Black. Voldemort's knowledge is extensive, and I knew that even my most complex and powerful protection charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to power."

"I understand, sir," Harry said slowly. "But why are you telling me this?"

The old man sighed heavily.

"As I've said," Dumbledore continued, "I knew that your life with your Aunt and Uncle would be…difficult. I had thought that the protections would be worth it in the long run, but Harry, I never, not even in my wildest nightmares, ever imagined that they would go so far as to physically hurt you."

Again, the Professor's eyes flicked down to Harry's lip.

"They don't hurt me," Harry said immediately. "Not really."

"Harry," Dumbledore continued. "Forgive me, but I've spoken to them, and I have ways of finding out the truth. Why did you never tell anyone how bad it was?"

"It _wasn't_ that bad," Harry replied jerkily. The boy made no move to sit down. "It was nothing I couldn't handle, but…I just don't want to go back. Please. There must be another way…"

"I will look into it, Harry, I promise," Dumbledore said heavily. "Regardless, let me assure you that I do not consider the Dursley placement to be a suitable home for you at present. Perhaps, given time, we can find a way to keep you both safe and protected inside those four walls as well as out, but until then, alternative arrangements will have to be made. I will not fail you again."

Harry appeared to be a little overwhelmed, and David didn't blame him in the slightest. It was a hell of a lot of information to take in.

Harry swallowed. "And for this summer?"

"Well, the Grangers have kindly offered to allow you to stay with them for the rest of the summer," Dumbledore said, finally allowing a smile to grace his face. "I see no reason why that can't be arranged, but I will leave it up to you as to whether you accept their generous invitation. Of course, if you'd rather go somewhere else…"

"I'd like to stay," Harry said. He turned to David. "If that's alright?"

"We'd love to have you, Harry," Katherine said immediately. "Isn't that right, David?"

"Of course," David said firmly. "But what about this Sirius Black fellow?"

Harry suddenly tensed, as if realising something. It took a few seconds for David to understand why, and by the time he'd finally cottoned on, it was already too late...

"Oh Merlin," Harry said, eyes wide. "I'd been putting you in danger, wouldn't I? If I stayed here? Well, then, I'll just have to go somewhere else..."

Harry immediately began to walk towards the door, although David didn't have the foggiest clue where the boy thought he was going to go.

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted. "That's not what my dad meant, Harry, not at all." Hermione glared at her father. "Right, dad?"

"Right," David replied firmly. "I just meant that if you're going to be staying here, we're going to have to think about what we can be done to keep _you_ safe. Katherine and I are hardly going to be able to offer much protection ourselves against a Dark Wizard, especially one that's just escaped from prison."

"I can certainly assist with that," Dumbledore replied. "I do believe we should keep this arrangement 'off the books' though, so to speak. As muggles, I do not think it likely that anyone will realise that Harry is residing here, but Hermione is known to be a great friend of Harry's, and it is possible that someone in the Wizarding world has picked up on that fact and is monitoring the house as we speak. Unlikely, but possible. The less attention we draw to this situation, the better, I think."

David felt a little uncomfortable with that arrangement, especially since the man was essentially just a teacher, not a social worker, with no real authority over Harry, but he had a feeling that things worked a little differently in the wizarding world, and that it was probably better to have Albus Dumbledore firmly on their side.

"Okay, I think we can do that," David replied slowly. "We won't hide though. We're not cowards."

"I did not think for a second that you were," Dumbledore replied calmly, "Although I must say, I am pleased to see that Hermione inherited most of her Gryffindor qualities directly from her parents."

Hermione flushed red, and David felt the odd urge to do the same.

"With your permission then, I will put up some temporary wards tonight," Dumbledore said as he stood up from the armchair. "I will return tomorrow with a colleague of mine to strengthen them until we are satisfied that nothing short of an army could breach them. As Voldemort himself is yet to return, it should prove sufficient for now. Until then, I urge you to practice caution."

"Always," David replied. Katherine sat on the arm of the couch beside David, and he drew strength from her presence. "We will take every precaution you suggest, and then some, if necessary. I promise you, Headmaster, Harry will be safe here."

David was responding to the Headmaster, yes, but his eyes were on Harry, and his words were meant for the teenager too. Harry _would_ be safe with them.

 _I promise._

It was strange that he felt so protective over a boy he had only really met for the first time yesterday, but David realised that not only was it promise that he meant with all his heart, but it was also a promise that he would do everything in his power to keep.

* * *

 **A/N -** So, as you can see, I've taken quite a few liberties with the Granger's characterisations, but I suppose since they are essentially blank canvasses, I was free to paint any picture I wanted. I hope you liked the direction I chose to go in! Also, I know a lot of you don't like Dumbledore, but I do, so I'm not going to apologise for the way I wrote him in this chapter. If it helps, he isn't a big player in this story, and won't really make another significant appearance. The whole point of this little story was that I wanted to explore the potential relationship between the Granger's and Harry, and that's what I'm going to continue to focus on. Please let me know your thoughts, and as always, thanks for reading!


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